


‘Cause I Like It When You Don’t Say Nothing

by Priestlyislove



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Awkwardness, Complicated Relationships, Confessions, Developing Relationship, M/M, No Lube, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 10:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: Dakota and Cav share a moment, which bleeds into multiple moments. Dakota doesn’t know how to shut his mouth.Title from Léon’s Baby Don’t Talk.





	‘Cause I Like It When You Don’t Say Nothing

Dakota couldn’t have told you how it happened. One minute, they were across the room from each other, Dakota scrolling through his phone on the bed they were sharing for the night in their tiny motel room while Cavendish worked on journaling at the desk. The next minute, they were glued to each other, kissing like it was the end of the world.

They had kissed before. In the quiet moments that were transitionary, in the moments that didn’t feel like they existed at all. Their lips would brush, and Cavendish would pull away as quickly as he initiated it. Cavendish wouldn’t talk about it, so Dakota kept his mouth shut too. He didn’t want to risk spooking him away. Dakota was very good at running his mouth and ruining things. Cavendish had reminded him of that frequently.

But these kisses were different. Slow, sweet, like their whole bodies were kissing, like they were paper and paint or earth and rain. Cavendish did not flitter away. He remained, and their sacred moment turned into more moments, and more, and more, until it became real. Until it became something they could not stay silent about.

Dakota heard the sound of his zipper before he realized where Cavendish’s hands were. His tracksuit was opened, his chain jingling slightly with the movement as Cavendish pulled it off his shoulders. Dakota’s hands hesitantly found their place fumbling with Cavendish’s buttons, until Cavendish helped him out, shrugging his shirt off.

Dakota finally cracked his eyes open, afraid it had just been a dream. But Cavendish was there, Cavendish was half naked, Cavendish was kissing him and running his hands through his hair.

“You’re pretty,” Dakota gasped, pulling away. Cavendish panted, and the neediness in his expression outweighed his aggravation at being interrupted. “You have a pretty face.”

“Shut up,” Cavendish sucked on his jaw, and Dakota whimpered.

Dakota ran one hand through his hair experimentally. He didn’t know the rules of this game. Cavendish played a lot of games, but this one was new. “I mean it.”

“I don’t want you to.” Cavendish laughed lightly, although Dakota didn’t know what was funny. His breath was hot on his neck. His mustache tickled Dakota.

Dakota pressed on bravely, his voice staying mostly even while Cavendish’s hands trailed down into his pants, “I think you’re wonderful. Even when you’re mean. I wanna kiss you more. I wanna spend time with you away from work, away from stupid pistachios and any other dumb job we get. I wanna see you. I like it when your bangs fall in your face and I like when you chew the tip of your pencil. I think it’s cute. I like you. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I was scared, y’know, I didn’t want to scare you. I wanted you to like me too.”

“I like you, Vinnie,” Cavendish rumbled against his neck, “I like you just fine. Now shut up.”

“I can’t,” now it was Dakota who was laughing, “I’m too nervous. I get chatty when I’m nervous.”

Cavendish pushed him down onto his back, his curls spreading over the bedsheets. Dakota flicked off his sunglasses, swallowing thickly. Cavendish sent Dakota’s heart racing like a rabbit, but Dakota remained unmoving, anticipating the kill. He took Dakota’s hand roughly, kissing his wrist like he was draining the blood from it. Dakota did feel lightheaded. Despite this, he managed to squirm free from his pants with a little guidance. The underwear came off just as easily.

Cavendish pulled away only to take off his own clothes, and Dakota had to bite his lip to keep from saying anything. Luckily, Cavendish was back to distract him from his nerves in a second. Dakota felt any capacity for words escape him when looking at his cock. If he was wet before, an ocean opened between his legs now. Cavendish lifted his hips and Dakota dutifully wrapped his legs around Cavendish’s slender waist as Cavendish entered him. He let out a yelp. Cavendish’s thrusts were slow at first, gaining speed as he discovered Dakota more intimately than most partners discovered each other.

In the room next to theirs, there was a loud thump, and the leaky faucet dripped for the hundredth time that afternoon. Outside the window, birds cooed about the weather, children played games, and parents yelled after them. Their air conditioning unit made all sorts of strange whirring sounds. The sheet beneath Dakota was not as scratchy as it looked, but calling it soft would have been an exaggeration. It was stained.

La petite mort. Dakota never excelled in any studies, and language was no exception, but the dirty words always stuck in his head. It was funny, it was clever, whispering erotic words to your friends to snicker about. He didn’t know why he thought of it just then, but the phrase crossed his mind rather suddenly. It was what the French called their orgasms. He didn’t understand it. When he climaxed, he did not feel his soul slip from his body. Instead, he came to life. The world went white, and when it reappeared, it was brighter. He was cresting above a dark sea, he was alive and for a sweet moment, he knew what that was worth.

Cavendish came with a cry, and Dakota wondered if Cavendish died or lived when he did it. He wondered if Cavendish would ever tell him.

Cavendish eased him back onto the bed, and Dakota’s legs trembled in his grip. Cavendish got up, grabbing his pants and slipping wordlessly into the bathroom. Dakota might believe he imagined the whole thing, save for the fact Dakota was filled with his cum. It was leaking back out onto the bedspread, and Dakota felt a twinge of guilt for adding to its collection of stains. But it was also proof that this had happened, evidence that they were there to last long after they were gone.

“Hey Cav?” Dakota called out, more breathless than he thought he’d sound.

“What?” His response was almost lost to the sound of the air conditioner. Dakota breathed out slowly. What was the point of saying it? Cavendish already knew, and saying it out loud might send him running. He was more tangible now, less likely to dissipate when Dakota reached out to him, but he wasn’t fully there yet.

Dakota stayed quiet.


End file.
